


Homecoming

by elemsee



Category: Anthem (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, a boatload of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elemsee/pseuds/elemsee
Summary: The Freelancer gets an unexpected visitor.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> It's your friendly neighbourhood Anthem trash can, here with some non-smutty feels this time around. 
> 
> This one is set post FoD but before Freelancer Down. I've actually taken some of the Freelancer Down dialogue and pillaged it, which makes this slightly AU since I'm screwing with the timeline a little. 
> 
> It always bothered me that the Freelancer had little to no reaction at Owen's face reveal, to which my brain responded, "Well, perhaps she didn't react because she's already seen him like that" and thus this fic was born.
> 
> Enjoy.

The front door swung open with a groan. Dusty, unfiltered air entered Felicity's nostrils as she took in a quick breath, her footsteps slow and heavy upon the threshold. The apartment felt like a foreign place to her now.

 

Every piece of furniture, every mundane item that never had much meaning before — suddenly they were all a torment, a cruel reminder of the way their life had once been.

 

The Freelancer hadn't been back in weeks. Ever since Owen's untimely departure — _Betrayal_ , she thought bitterly — she sought comfort anywhere but home. Home wasn't home to Felicity anymore: it had been him, the warmth of his embrace in the middle of the night, the infectious sound of his laughter at the dinner table, even the irritating tap of his fingers drumming against the kitchen counter as he made her tea in the morning. 

 

Every inch of Felicity's surroundings screamed of him, and her mind flooded with so many memories that for a moment she wondered if she would drown in the despair.

 

Her emerald eyes were unfocused as she absently pushed the front door closed behind her, traipsing forward like a zombie toward the stairs.

 

The deep inhale she took upon reaching the top of the stairs was forceful but didn't quite catch, and Felicity's hands balled into fists as she tried again, desperate not to let her internal panic consume her. She silently cursed the air for being cruel enough to still smell like him.

 

A few tentative steps forward in the darkness and Felicity was stood at the bedside table. Her trembling hand reached for the switch on the lamp but she immediately withdrew it — staying in the dark was easier. She bristled at the thought of seeing Owen's smiling face in the photographs hanging above their bed.

 

The mattress was as comically uncomfortable as she remembered as she flopped down onto the bed bonelessly. She reached for the pillow on the opposite side, clinging it tightly to her chest, the pillowcase fabric unforgivingly cold against her skin as she buried her face into it. It smelled faintly of Owen's shampoo. Her chest jerked with the threat of a sob, but the tears refused to come. She had never really been one to cry often — emotional pain tended to just simmer on her chest, hot and suffocating, like a burn that refused to heal properly.

 

More than anything, she just wanted to jump up and run.

 

It had, in fact, been Faye's idea for the Freelancer to return home, and for that she was bitter. "You need to go get some decent rest. You're no good to anyone running on empty."

 

Felicity scoffed at the idea that she could sleep it all away. Her sleeping pattern had grown a mess, an uncomfortable broken haze that never granted her any true respite. The dreams were the worst part — her mind was cruel, constantly sending her back to the Fortress, frozen in place and screaming for Owen. The sounds of her dreams would sometimes slip into the real world: she still felt terribly guilty about the night she'd stayed with Matti, Erryl and Sumner and awoken them with her hysterical shrieking.

 

The Freelancer sighed deeply at that thought. Even Matthias, the person she'd considered her closest friend after Owen, had left her. But it wasn't as simple as a death — no, a death would be simpler, cleaner. She could mourn that. Instead she was left with three identical pieces of him, a constant haunting reminder of the way things used to be.

 

Sometimes she wished Owen had died too — the thought of tragically losing him to something beyond his control was somehow less painful than coming to terms with the fact that he'd done all this of his own volition.

 

When she eventually dozed off, all she could see were Owen's ocean eyes, hooded and cruel, lulling her back into that same bad dream.

* * *

Felicity jolted awake with a start, her throat raw and scratchy, her shirt clad back drenched in sweat. The darkness of the room was equal parts tormenting and comforting around her, her heart pounding relentlessly against her rib cage as she fully came to her senses. _It was just a dream. It's over._

 

Slowly she sat up, breathing laboured as though she'd been running for miles, and for a frightening moment it felt as though the oxygen wasn't getting into her lungs.

 

As her eyes began to grow used to the dark, she saw it. A person, perched upon the top step of the stairs, facing away from her, sat entirely still. Felicity's entire body froze in place, breath hitching in her throat. At first she thought maybe it was just an ominous looking shadow. The harder she focused her eyes, the more she realised how truly wrong she was.

 

She leaned over the edge of the bed, hand trembling as she felt under the bed for her pistol. The metal was chilly against her fingertips as she raised back up, pointing the weapon in the direction of the silhouette. She drew in a slow breath, her exhale shaky as she hovered her finger teasingly over the pistol's trigger.

 

"Will you at least hear me out before you put a bullet in my skull?"

 

Felicity's stomach dropped. 

 

" _Owen_?"

 

She received no confirmation, but she knew. His voice was unmistakable. The trembling in her hand was worse now, her entire body wracked with shivers as she tried to let the situation sink in. He remained motionless, still just an ominous presence in the dark. Felicity grew increasingly frustrated as she stared down the back of his head, desperately wanting this all to be just some cruel prank.

 

"You're not him," came her fumbling words, her voice defiant against the stifling silence.

 

"As much as I wish that weren't the case... I'm definitely me."

 

The barrel of her gun was still trained on him, her eyes daggers. "Prove it."

 

"You like bacon sandwiches. You have a scar on the top of your right thigh. You used to own this hideous bright pink purse with your name emblazoned on it... that was the one I stole from you, the first time we met." He sighed. "That good enough, Lis?"

 

Felicity could feel her stomach churning as she drank in his words. It was definitely him. Nobody knew her like he did.

 

"Turn around."

 

"Let me just explain somet—"

 

"I said, turn around, traitor!" Felicity was incandescent as she leapt up from her spot on the bed, trembling with fury as she continued to point the gun at the back of his head. She needed to see him. She had to know she wasn't dreaming.

 

Another sigh escaped him, and then he was moving, standing up and turning so slowly that it was almost comical. As he finally faced her, he fumbled for the light switch beside him on the wall, flicking it onward to bathe the entire room in light.

 

Felicity squinted at the brightness of the room, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.

 

As she finally focused her gaze upon him, she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. Her mouth dropped open, gun instantly lowered as she processed just what she was looking at. 

 

"Oh, Owen, _no_." Her voice was faint, tears brimming at her eyes for the first time as she tried to find the strength to speak. It was much worse than any of the nightmares she'd had about him. The white hot anger within her fizzled away, replaced with desperate concern for the man she still admittedly adored despite his treachery. 

 

The scars on Owen's face were unlike anything Felicity had ever seen before, darkened webs of puckered flesh around both eyes and down both cheeks. His now lashless eyes, once a vibrant blue, had been reduced to a cloudy and lifeless grey. 

 

Felicity was horrified — she'd seen things as a Freelancer she wished she could forget, but seeing Owen like this had stricken her to the bone deeper than ever before. He was always so beautiful, his soft features, his shining blue eyes and infectious smile. The idea that someone could be sadistic enough to intentionally cause him such grievous pain made her feel nauseous.

 

"It's a funny story actually," Owen started, though his morose tone suggested otherwise. "As it turns out, the Dawn Shield doesn't hold up without the General's signet, but I suspect you knew that already. So naturally, disaster, retreat, failure..." Owen looked sheepish, biting his lip as he stood uncomfortably in front of her. "In any case, we'll call this... my punishment. The Dominion and I have parted ways."

 

Felicity felt a sick shiver go down her spine. "The Dominion did this to you? The Monitor?" And then, a question she wasn't entirely sure she wanted the answer to. "Can you still see at all?" She was curious at how he'd managed to find his way in.

 

"Mostly just shapes and shadows. Luckily the cypher senses help fill in most of the blanks. Makes it a little less terrifying." He gave a humourless laugh, and Felicity bristled at the hollow sound.

 

An awkward silence fell over the room as the Freelancer considered the man in front of her. Owen had suffered, that much was clear, and was likely still suffering. The physical and emotional trauma of being blinded wasn't something a person just bounced back from. He was terrified — Felicity knew his humour and how he utilised it as a defence mechanism, she knew him like the back of her hand.

 

Or, at least she thought she knew him.

 

The thought of Owen's betrayal crept up on her again, like an icy breeze upon her back. She straightened up, eyes narrowed as she focused on him.

 

"We were partners. Best friends. I trusted you with my life." Felicity swallowed hard, a valiant attempt to push down the lump in her throat. "I loved you."

 

The bones above Owen's eyes shot upward, and Felicity realised that she hadn't noticed his missing eyebrows until now. "Did you?" he asked, incredulous. "Or was I just a placeholder until your precious Faye came back?"

 

Felicity's eyes went wide. "Are you serious?" Her voice was loud now, tinged with a contempt she never knew she could feel for someone she once loved so deeply. "Is that what this was? Some rebellion borne out of pedantic jealousy?"

 

"Don't be so bloody stupid —"

 

"Stupid? No, Owen, stupid is almost getting killed because you wanted a free ride in a javelin. Stupid is joining sides with the enemy because you had a temper tantrum. Stupid is throwing away everything you had, everything we could have had, because you wanted to run off and play Lancer!"

 

Owen frowned, and even with the cloudiness of his eyes Felicity could see clear as day that she'd wounded him with her words. He strode over to the side of the bed that used to be his and sat down, remaining silent as he faced away from her.

 

Felicity's breathing was heavy and harsh against the silence, her pistol still dangling loosely in her grip. She stared at the back of Owen's head, lost for words as she considered his presence. So many nights she'd thought about what she would do, what she'd say if he ever returned. Now the words had all but fizzled away, a combination of yearning and indignation settling in the pit of her stomach, still as raw as the day he'd left.

 

"Do you remember the night before you left Ponteix to start your Freelancer training? When we sat on that roof and watched the stars?"

 

The memory softened Felicity's steel demeanour ever so slightly. "I remember you nearly fell and broke your leg when that ledge gave way. You were lucky I caught you," she said, a small smile playing upon her lips. 

 

Owen chuckled, a soft and familiar sound that pulled at the Freelancer's heartstrings. She'd missed that sound.

 

"Do you remember when we saw that group of Lancers flying overhead? Remember what I said to you?"

 

Felicity placed her pistol onto the bedside table without a word. Her throat was suddenly tight, the memory he'd conjured threatening to overwhelm her. She hadn't thought about it in years.

 

A few slow steps around and she was next to Owen, sat just inches apart on the edge of the bed. Her gaze found the floor; she couldn't bear to look at him.

 

"You said," Felicity started, tilting her head toward him, still afraid to meet his eyes, "That's gonna be us one day."

 

"I never chose this life, Lis. Being a lancer was all I ever dreamed of. We may have just been stupid kids, but you were the first person that believed in me. Then —" Owen sighed. "— Somewhere down the line you stopped. Nothing does wonders for the self-esteem quite like being labelled a disaster by the woman you love."

 

Felicity bristled at that. _That was a disaster. You were a disaster!_  She'd regretted those words the instant they fell from her lips. It had caused irreparable damage. Like piecing back together a broken mirror, neither of them were the same after that.

 

Her mind flashed her an image of the day he'd left her, and in an instant she bolted upright in her seat, contempt flowing through her veins once more. She needed answers. "Owen, what happened with the Monitor? Why are you even _here_?"

 

"I came here to warn you. I watched the Monitor hear the Anthem. He's become crazed. To him, you've become more than just a mild inconvenience, and he'll do whatever it takes to wipe you off the map. Haluk and Faye too. I need you to watch your back."

 

Felicity scoffed, and this time she met Owen's cloudy stare. "I can handle myself, Owen. I'm not afraid of the Monitor. Nor do I idolise him in quite the same way you do."

 

Owen sat back in his seat, clearly offended. "I don't idoli— look, I know I made a few risky career moves, but I'm not a monster. I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable — and you know what, I did. I was fantastic. But this went beyond my own interests, Lis. This wasn't just some temper tantrum so I could play lancer." Felicity flinched at his use of her jibes. "I wanted to keep the Fort safe. I wanted to keep you safe. I won't lose you and our home to a war with the Dominion."

 

"You already lost both of those things, Owen. Didn't need a war with the Dominion for that."

 

"Guess I did, didn't I?" The despondency that now tinged Owen's voice was almost disarming. 

 

Silence cast down between them as they both stared at their own feet. The unsaid things made it heavy, an almost suffocating purgatory. Barbed accusations of the present. Honeyed assurances of the past. Neither words seemed the right fit anymore. 

 

Felicity broke the silence, opting for indifference. "I'm surprised you're even back in the Fort at all. You're hardly a crowd favourite around here right now."

 

"Oh, I don't plan on hanging around. I think we both know Tassyn would have my head if she knew I was here talking to you right now."

 

Felicity's eyebrows were furrowed as she regarded his words. "Where are you gonna go?"

 

"I don't know, to be honest. East? West? I'll figure something out, but listen." Owen reached for Felicity's hand, running his thumb across her knuckles in the gentle way he always used to, and Felicity swore she could feel her heart do a flip. "I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to know... I never meant to hurt you. I loved you. Still do. Always will."

 

Felicity lifted her hand so she could grasp at his, her green eyes staring down at their fingers as they intertwined. Owen leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. Her anger had been almost debilitating, but now all she felt was grief, tight like a knot deep within her chest. Grief for what she'd lost, what they'd both lost.

 

Perhaps this had all been her fault after all.

 

"Stay," she whispered. _Let me fix this_ , she wanted to add, but she knew better.

 

"We both know I can't, gorgeous. Besides, even if I could, you've got Faye now. You'll forgive me if I don't just want to stand in the corner and look pretty again."

 

Felicity knew she could hardly blame him for feeling abandoned. Her mind cast back to how he'd walked away from her in the strider, his stare screaming of hurt, and suddenly she ached for a chance to rewind time and do things differently.

 

Owen released his grip upon the Freelancer's hand, moving to plant a kiss upon her forehead before standing up. She was brave enough to look him in the eye now, and he met her gaze almost defiantly — and she was fit to burst with all the unresolved emotion swirling within her.

 

"Take him down, Lis. You're the only one who can."

 

"I'll do it or die trying. And Owen —" Felicity swallowed hard. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

 

Owen gave a simple nod at her words, the tiniest flicker of a smile playing upon his lips — and as he finally turned and walked away, down the stairs and out of the apartment that they once shared, Felicity couldn't quite place the emotion behind his wordless response. Regardless, she knew their chapter was closed. He was no longer hers, and now he'd severed ties with the Dominion, he was no longer her enemy either. Now he was simply a ghost from her past. A cautionary tale, a wake up call to remind her to do better.

 

For him, she would do better.


End file.
